


The Hollywood Hales

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a young Hollywood actor looking for his big break. When he gets the opportunity of a lifetime, he breaks the rules to go after what he wants. But a misunderstanding gets Stiles labeled a casting couch whore; that he only got the job because he slept with the director, Peter Hale. And now, all Stiles wants to do is prove himself to his co-star, Derek Hale, that he’s a legitimate actor. </p><p>Reposting: I did some editing of the original version offline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hollywood Hales

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that sections will have individual warnings as dub-con elements occur. Dub-con elements, violence/rape/death elements (as part of the “movie” and not actually explicit in the story), power dynamics, angst, first-time. 
> 
> Some of the Hollywood quotes are based on real events and/or recreated for effect.

**Variety.com**

_‘Prince of Young Hollywood’ Speaks Out Against Label_

_“I roll my eyes at all the hype of ‘young Hollywood’ today,” said Derek Hale, scowling slightly. “And to be called the ‘Prince of Young Hollywood’ isn’t the kind of accolade I want for my acting. I’ve done some good work, I want to do better, and I want to be in this business for a very long time. That’s not going to happen if I’m crashing my Maybach or crawling out of clubs at 3 AM drunk or high. I have a lot more respect for my career than that.”_

 

There wasn’t anything _glamorous_ about being an actor in Hollywood.  Everyone _claimed_ to be an actor in LA, but being a _working_ actor who got a gig and a steady pay check, that was a whole new ballgame. Stiles Stilinski was lucky that there was a big industry for young adult roles now and he had the kind of face that blended in well. He had started building his resume with a couple YouTube web series, a few small TV guest roles, a national Toyota commercial that got him an agent and a membership into SAG, but he was still unconnected and finding roles was harder than finding a normal job.

That didn’t deter him. He spent his days trying to get into every open call audition he could find in the trades; and he spent his nights and weekends working as a catering waiter for a local event planning company. One night, while working the Ron Howard party, Stiles saw a well-thumbed script for “Highway to Hemingway” on the floor and, in a split second, Stiles had shoved it down the back of his pants as he finished his clean up.

Everyone knew about “Highway to Hemingway.” It was number one on the Hollywood _Black List_ and gaining a lot of attention for its dark themes and sex. No one had heard of the writer, Tyler Lee, and every producer in town was trying to make a bid on it. There was already talk of Oscars, which was kind of idiotic considering that the movie wasn’t even made yet.

Stiles read it as soon as he got home, and read it a few more times, keeping the script hidden in his bag when he wasn’t reading it. He shared a house with five other guys, all of them actors like him looking for their big break. Normally, Stiles would be the first to share such a fortuitous find, but he didn’t want to tempt fate and share it with the rest of the guys. The only person he could trust was his best friend, Scott McCall, who had gotten three callbacks from MTV for a new TV series.

“This is amazing! I can’t believe you got a copy of it,” Scott said, flipping through the pages of the script. “Do I even want to know what you did to get it?”

He laughed. “Nothing that’ll come back to bite me on the ass, I promise, buddy.”

“Want to run lines?”

“If you read for Lars, I’ll read Patrick.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He carried it with him when he went to open calls as a good luck charm – and surprisingly, Stiles won a three line role on “Wilfred,” and wasn’t that an awesome gig, getting to be in the same scene as Elijah Wood, who really was the nicest guy in Hollywood. Three days later, _Variety_ announced that “Highway to Hemingway” was optioned by Alpha Films for $500,000 and that visionary and controversial filmmaker, Peter Hale, would be directing it.

Stiles needed a plan.

***

**GQ Magazine**

_“The worst job I’ve ever had was a clay pigeon trapper. Do you know what that is? I was in my second year at Guildhall and my part time job was loading those little orange disks that are shot out of canons so hunters could shoot them out of the sky,” said Orlando Bloom, laughing as he pulled up the sleeve of his tee-shirt to show a dozen small pock marks on his skin. “You won’t believe how many kids are accidentally shot by hunters loading that bloody thing. And we weren’t even bloody compensated for our injuries!”_

 

Melrose Events & Services was the largest catering service in the city. They specialized in hosting discreet, private parties for the rich and famous. All catering staff was vetted and when Stiles was hired, he signed so many non-disclosure statements that he was certain he had signed his soul away. When he looked at the monthly bookings, he wasn’t surprised to see the Hale name on the board.

“Rosemary, I need to work the Hale party,” he said, desperately.

The older woman raised her eyebrow. “You and everybody else, sweetie.”

“Please. Please, Rosemary. My career depends on it!”

“Your career in the catering industry depends on you working the Hale party?”

Stiles slapped his forehead on top of her desk. “My career in acting! Please, Rosemary, I swear I’ll do anything – ANYTHING – if you could staff me for it. Please! I’m begging here!”

She gave him a long, critical look. “My gutters need cleaning.”

He opened his mouth and blinked. Well, to be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time anyone had wanted to trade him sexual favors. “Um, is that like a euphemism for, um, sex? Because you’re a beautiful woman and you should have someone who can take care of that for you and—“

“No! It’s the gutters on my house,” Rosemary said, slapping his arm. “Good God, Stiles, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, I’ll clean your gutters. But please, please make sure to staff me for the Hale party.”

Rosemary took a deep breath and grinned, turning to her computer and pulling up the staffing document for the Hale party. He watched, clasping his hands tightly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, as she typed in his name.

“Thank you, Rosemary,” he whispered, leaning over and hugging her.

She patted his arm, completely disarmed. “Jesus, kid, it’s just a party. If you need more jobs because you’re broke, just let me know and I’ll make sure to staff you.”

“Thanks – thanks for that, you’re so awesome,” he said, biting his lip.

“Stiles,” she said, looking up at him, all serious business. “Don’t make me regret doing this. If you’re going to that party to do anything that will reflect badly on our company…”

He shook his head. “It’s not – I wouldn’t do anything like that, I promise.”

She chuckled and waved him away. “I’m holding you to that promise, Stilinski!”

Stiles left the agency quickly, his hand tightening on his backpack strap as he stepped out on the sidewalk. His heart was beating hard, his body trembling with excitement and nervous tension. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the heat of the LA sun warm him. He knew that this was going to be his big break. He could feel it in his bones; this part was perfect for him and he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that Peter Hale knew it.

*******

**Author’s Note:** TRIGGER WARNING! Though nothing sexual happens in this chapter, I do want to warn for dub-con power dynamic where Peter uses his position of power and Stiles does not feel that he is in a position to refuse.

 

**TMZ.com**

_“Do we looking like fucking zoo animals? I’ll make you eat that phone! Get the fuck out of here! Get out of here!” Sean Penn seethed as a fan snapped a cell phone photo of the actor leaving the St. Regis Hotel in San Francisco._

The Hale mansion in Beverly Hills was impressive, but Stiles had been inside the homes of pretty much every rich and famous person in LA and was already a little jaded. As part of the catering wait staff, Stiles’s job was to circulate the room with food and drinks, to quickly react to the needs of the clients and to blend in the background – not unlike a lot of his acting work, to be honest.

Despite being just a little bit jaded, Stiles did have moments where his eyes would linger a little too long on someone beautiful and famous, his heart quickening when he heard someone laugh, not a Hollywood laugh but a real laugh. It was kind of cool to see a famous person in their natural state, away from the prying eyes of the tabloids and paparazzi and media and fans. He was kind of amused by how dorky most of them were in real life, a little bit awkward and shy, but exceptionally sweet and generous. He’d yet to meet someone who was outright rude to him while he worked his catering gigs. Sure, they all had a few quirks, but everyone had quirks. It was Stiles’s job to make sure to meet them as easily as possible.

He stood on the edges of the living room, watching as the guests ate and drank before being seated for dinner. It was an informal gathering, hosted by studio chairwoman Talia Hale. Everyone knew she was the brains of pretty much the whole industry. Hale Entertainment was family owned and their string of profitable successes made them a major player in town.

Peter, her younger brother, had a reputation for being a “genius” and “visionary filmmaker” which were just nice ways of saying that he was kind of a dick. Stiles did think Peter was a great filmmaker, though. He could understand that Peter had little patience for fools and idiots. Actors jumped at the chance to work with him, wooing him in the trade papers, or using their network to get a meeting with him. He was demanding, it was true, but he was an actor’s director; he knew how to get performances and sometimes, those performances turned into Oscars. It was rumored that Talia spent a lot of time smoothing the ruffled feathers of angry producers and investors, but she also backed up her brother’s work because his films were, let’s face it, profitable. And people in Hollywood liked making their money back.

Talia’s oldest daughter, Laura, was the CEO and President of Hale Entertainment. She was also the VP of Development for Alpha Films, which was Peter’s flagship, under the Hale Entertainment umbrella. Stiles watched as she owned the room when she walked in. She was smart and beautiful and rumored to be even tougher than Talia when it came to the business.

And then there was Derek…Stiles swallowed as Derek strolled into the room, casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his dark beard neatly trimmed and framing his sharp jawline. People moved across the room to greet him, shaking his hand or patting his back. Stiles thought Derek looked nervous; he could see when Derek put on his mask, smiling politely and greeting everyone in the room by name. Stiles couldn’t help watching; so what if he was a bit of a fanboy? Derek Hale was going to be a great actor one day, if only he’d stop playing romantic comedy leading man roles and took on roles with a little more substance.

Not that Stiles had any right to dictate to Derek Hale what he should do with his career.

He was gorgeous, though.

Stiles saw Peter slip away out of the room and Stiles took a deep breath. This was it, his only chance. He walked to the event planner in charge, Denise, and asked for a five minute break.

“Make it a quick one, the chef is going to be ready to serve dinner in fifteen minutes,” she said, waving him away.

He hurried through the hallway and saw Peter slip into a room. Stiles followed and then put his hand on the doorknob. _This was it; he couldn’t punk out now. One chance to make an impression_. He took a deep breath and then walked into the room, pretending to be startled when he saw Peter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Hale, I thought this was…”

“It’s quite all right,” Peter said, leaning back against the edge of the large mahogany desk. Stiles looked around the room, it was warmly decorated with lots of dark woods and rich red carpeting. The walls were lined with built in bookshelves.

“Could I bring you a drink or anything like that?”

Peter cocked his head and looked him over. “Why don’t you close the door and come in? You must’ve wanted to talk to me to chase me into my private office. The caterers don’t normally come to this part of the house, even by accident.”

Stiles tried to look contrite. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Peter chuckled. “Sure you did.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Stiles an amused look. “But I’m bored and this is far more entertaining. So, tell me, are you a budding actor looking for his first movie role?”

Stiles was a bit offended by the mocking tone, but he sucked it up and met Peter’s eyes. “Yes, I am. I read ‘Highway to Hemingway’ and I thought it was a brilliant script. I just wanted to ask for a chance to audition for the part of Patrick.”

“You and just about every actor in this town,” he drawled, raising his eyebrow. “What makes you better?”

Stiles walked closer into the room. “I can really identify with the character; I don’t even think I need to act, I can see so clearly what the role is and what the story is – and when I found out that you were directing it, I knew it was going to be a chance of a lifetime. I’m smart, I’m easy to work with, I can take direction well—“

“How well?” Peter said, licking his lips. “Why don’t you take off your shirt and then get down on your knees?”

“What—you mean, now?”

“How lucky you are to have my full and undivided attention.”

“It’s just that…I have to get back…I can meet you tomorrow, any time and any place.”

Peter gave an understanding smile, nodding, pretending that it was all right, that this was completely harmless. “I won’t be available this week; and I already have a casting agency working for the production team so…”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, reaching up to undo his black necktie. He unbuttoned his white dress shirt and looked at Peter, slipping it off his shoulders. He reached down and pulled up his white tee-shirt, tossing it on top of his dress shirt on the floor.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty,” he said, moving down to his knees in front of Peter.

_What the fuck was he doing? Was he really doing this? He wasn’t some cheap whore; he was an actor, damn it! But…what if this was the only way? He knew the score; some deals were made down on knees. The casting couch was still stained with the blood, tears, and dreams of a thousand Hollywood celebrities – and it wasn’t just pretty young starlets getting propositioned. Everyone always whispered about the two Coreys – Haim and Feldman – and how they were drugged and passed around for sex by industry professionals when they were in their teens._

“You really are very pretty; with such a pretty mouth,” Peter murmured, looking down at him. He spread his legs and braced his hands against the edge of the desk, raising his eyebrow at Stiles. “But LA is full of very pretty boys who take direction.”

Stiles licked his lips and shifted closer, placing his hands on Peter’s knees, running his palms up his strong thighs. He gave a coy look up at the older man. “But I can actually act. Patrick is someone’s idea of a wet dream on paper, the script doesn’t really give him enough depth, but with the right actor, he becomes someone important, a pivotal character. You don’t want to waste that kind of role on someone who’s just pretty.”

He could see that Peter was hard under his dress slacks, but Stiles didn’t touch him and Peter didn’t make a move. It was all just a tease, a promise that he wouldn’t fulfill. Peter grinned slightly, like he knew what Stiles was doing.

“I’ve watched all of your movies. You make risky stories and you work with unknown actors. I don’t have a lot of acting experience, but I know how things work. I know how to be in front of the cameras. I know how to work with other actors. This movie is important to me and I want to be a part of it,” he said, taking a deep breath and looking up at Peter to meet his eyes, not playing around now. “But I don’t want to audition like this. Even if I never work another acting job in my life, I can look myself in the mirror and know I tried my best. So it’s up to you. You can get a blowjob from anyone in this town, but you won’t find a better actor than me to play Patrick.”

Peter smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he looked down at Stiles. “Not a bad pitch; a bit ordinary, but good use of flattery and pulling it back to the script and my work. I actually believe you.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, shrugging.

“What’s your name?”

“Stiles Stilinski.”

Peter leaned forward and grabbed Stiles’s chin gently with his fingers, lifting his face to get a good look at him. He stroked Stiles’s bottom lip with his thumb and Stiles inhaled sharply, flushing as he met Peter’s gaze.

“Peter, we’re about to…ohh.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder to see Derek Hale standing in the doorway, a deep frown on his face. _Oh shit, shit, shit!_

“Really, Peter? The staff?” Derek said, glaring at Stiles like this was his fault. “What the Hell were you thinking? Are you trying to get us sued for sexual harassment?”

Peter stood up and Stiles scrambled away, picking up his undershirt and pulling it on and getting dressed, trying not to look at either Peter or Derek.

“It’s none of your business, nephew,” Peter said, amused. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Stiles was trying to fix his necktie while shoving the shirt tails of his dress shirt under his slacks. “Sorry,” he whispered to Peter, “sorry for, you know, this.”

Peter reached over and deftly tied Stiles’s necktie for him, hands fixing his collar and straightening the knot. Peter grinned at him and walked to his desk, picking up a small, rectangle paper. He held out the piece of paper to Stiles. “Call me Wednesday at 11 in the morning, Stiles Stilinski. I’ll set up the audition for you and we’ll see if this was worth my time.”

Stiles smiled, covering his mouth with his hand, taking the business card. “Ohmygod, thank you, Mr Hale, you won’t regret this.”

“I think you should return to your post now,” Peter said, motioning for Stiles to leave.

“Of course, sir, um, thanks again,” he said, heading for the door.

Derek was still standing there, his handsome face tense, a disgusted expression in his hazel eyes and cold sneer on his lips as he looked at Stiles. “Get out of here.”

Stiles flushed, ducking his head as he squeezed past Derek, escaping into the hallway with Peter Hale’s business card clutched in his hand. He shoved it into his pocket, ears hot when he heard Derek’s voice following him into the hall.

“…can’t believe you’re going to let him audition just so you can fuck him whenever…”

*** 

**_Hollywood Reporter Interview_ **

_Newcomer Stiles Stilinski won the coveted role of Patrick in the Peter Hale vehicle “Highway to Hemingway.”_

_“I’m just really excited to be part of this,” Stiles said, smiling widely, the epitome of an exuberant 20-year old actor on the cusp of his first major film. “I’ve been working as an actor for a couple of years and it’s a learning process. I just want to do a good job and stay employed. I love acting; it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”_

 

If _E! Hollywood True Story_ ever ran a story on Stiles, he hoped that they would leave out the part that Derek once caught him on his knees in Peter’s private office. Even though nothing had happened, Stiles knew how it would appear. Young, inexperienced, fairly good looking guy like Stiles, getting the chance of a lifetime to work with Peter Hale in a major studio movie that was already generating Oscar buzz before the movie had finished casting – what else would people think?

But Stiles was no Lindsay Lohan; he wasn’t going to end up a casualty of Hollywood’s machinery. This was his dream his come true, he wasn’t going to fuck it up.  

After Peter hired him, Stiles’s life became a roller coaster ride, and he never wanted to get off of it. Laura had found a way to get Stiles out of his current agency contract and was quickly signed to a more reputable and experienced agent at CAA on Peter’s recommendation. His dad visited from Beacon Hills to help him understand his new contract, getting it reviewed by an entertainment attorney to make sure Stiles knew exactly what was being paid to him and to also understand his financial liabilities if he broke the contract. Stiles told the boys at the house and they quickly took him out on the town to celebrate his first big role. He took their teasing and a few jealous snide comments in stride, knowing that Scott was proud of him. He slipped them the name and number of the casting director to see if they could audition for other roles in the movie.

“Don’t Google yourself, man,” Scott said, putting his hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles winced. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not all bad, just…you probably don’t want to know what everyone is writing about you.”

“It’s good advice, bro,” he said, sighing deeply.

Stiles spent a lot of time at Peter’s apartment doing prep work on the character. Peter had hired an acting coach for Stiles and he would spend several hours each day at Peter’s place, working through the scenes, sharpening his improv skills, and learning about the _business_ of entertainment.

“I know you’re still casting, but who’s playing the lead?” Stiles asked, snacking on a vegetarian sushi dish that Peter’s personal chef created for them.

“Derek, of course, I can’t see anyone else but him as Lars. Plus, I think he’d rip my throat open if I even considered offering the role to anyone else.”

Stiles coughed and nearly spit out the avocado roll. “Derek, your nephew, _Derek_ _Hale_?”

“Yes,” Peter said, unconcerned. “Is there a problem? Why are you freaking out?”

“He hates me,” he said, frowning. “He thinks I gave you a blowjob in his mom’s house!”

Peter smirked, looking over at Stiles. “Ohhh, if only I had asked for one that night; then I’d know exactly what your pretty mouth would look like—“

“Ohmygod, Peter! Don’t sexually harass me!”

Peter laughed, leaning back in his chair, looking out at the city from their balcony. “Derek is a professional. He’d never let his personal feelings get in the way of the family business. Trust me, he won’t have any problems working with you. I wanted to spend these weeks working with you privately to get you up to speed, to make sure you know what I want when we start production. Derek will be coming tomorrow morning to work with you on camera.”

“Shit,” he muttered, dropping his chopsticks and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The entire body trembled, the butterflies in his stomach making him nauseous.

“Hey, you okay? Just breathe through your nose, Stiles,” Peter said, sliding his chair closer to him. “May I put my hand on your back?”

Stiles panted and nodded, looking up at him. He flinched when he felt Peter’s warm hand stroke his upper back, hand firm behind Stiles’s neck. Stiles normally didn’t like to be touched, but he found Peter’s hand comforting and grounding. He breathed through his nose and exhaled out of his mouth, trying to slow down his breathing and focusing on the weight of Peter’s hand. It was what he needed to stay grounded when the rest of his body just wanted to shut down or shoot up into the atmosphere.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s okay, Stiles, I’m here with you.”

Peter kept murmuring softly to him and Stiles didn’t even know what Peter was saying, but it was working, and he could feel his panic starting to dissipate, his breathing turning normal.

“What—what if I fuck up?”

“Then you fuck up,” Peter said, easily. “Acting is exploration; no one really knows what will work until you’re in the scene. You can plan all you want, but it comes from inside of you. Sometimes, it takes time to reach for the right emotion.”

It made sense; Stiles looked up at Peter. “I don’t want to suck.”

“You won’t…unless you fuck up enough to kill production then you’ll never get another job again, unless you do want to spend every audition on your knees. I swear to God, if you let all this go to your head, if you become like Lindsay Lohan, I’ll kick your ass so hard and sue you so quick that you’ll spend the next 100 years paying the studio back.”

Stiles looked at Peter, saw the mischievous glint in Peter’s blue eyes, and laughed his ass off. “Ohmygod! Ohmygod, did you just fucking compare me to Lindsay Lohan!”

Peter rolled his eyes.

He fell back on his chair and realized that Peter had distracted him enough to prevent a full blown panic attack. He sighed, looking out at the view of the city. “Thanks, Peter.”

“I saw the signs,” he said, kindly. “Derek used to have panic attacks when he was a kid; terrible fear of speaking in public. Glossophobia. His mother enrolled him in an after school children’s theater program to help him with his anxiety. He’s gotten a better handle on it.”

“He pulls on the mask,” Stiles said, smiling. “If you look carefully, you can see when he does it.”

Peter gave him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you were such a fan. Should I be worried?”

“Worried?”

“The last thing you ever want to do is sleep with any of the cast or crew when you’re filming,” Peter said, watching him. “Trust me, set affairs don’t last very long; and the last thing I want is for my two lead actors to make it impossible to work.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure that I’m the _last_ person that Derek would ever be interested in.” He took a deep breath. “Besides, I know I have a lot to prove. I know that this could be really amazing for me, to be part of this film. I can’t imagine what it would feel like if everyone did a great job and then I’m the one who ends up a joke, you know?”

“Come prepped and ready to work; Derek is a pro. He respects the process; he’s a good person to collaborate with. I’m going to film all the scenes between you two, to get a feel for how I want things to work, try to do some blocking. Derek usually crashes in one of the guest rooms, so you’re invited to take the other one. That way, you don’t have to worry about leaving or whatever. He’s kind of intense about his prep, so just go with it.”

“Okay, thanks, I’ll bring some of my stuff over tomorrow,” Stiles said, nodding. He picked up his chopsticks, the butterflies settling now.  He smiled, chewing on his California roll and then sipping some water. “This is going to be insane. I’m so excited, I can’t even tell you, dude.”

Peter laughed, giving him a long look. He picked up his beer bottle and Stiles raised his water glass, tapping it gently against the bottle. “Well, here’s to your long and prosperous Hollywood career, Stiles Stilinski.”

*******

**_Perez Hilton Gossip_ **

_Just who did Stiles Stilinski have to – ahem – kiss to get this plum role? Rumored to have beaten out hundreds of hot, young acting studs to play Patrick, the free-spirited young Lothario in Peter Hale’s new movie “Highway to Hemingway,” the unknown young actor is headed for the stratosphere if he plays this right!_

 

Stiles was reading through his first scene when he heard the doorbell ping. Of course it was a soft ping as Peter’s penthouse apartment was nothing if not discreet. His heart started to bang in his chest and he set the script aside, rubbing his sweaty palms against his legs.

“—can’t seriously believe you hired him,” Derek hissed, walking into the living room. He stopped, giving Stiles a cool glance, and then turned to Peter. “Fuck no.”

“Give him a chance, Derek,” Peter said, sighing. “He might surprise you.”

“This is too important to me to let him fuck it up,” Derek growled, throwing his bag on the floor. “Of everything that I’ve ever done, why did you have to hire _him_ for _this_ project?”

Stiles got to his feet. “Dude, I’m right here. If you’re going to insult me, do it to my face.”

Derek met his eyes. “I’m not going to carry you; so if you have any talent at all, you’ll do your job right the first time.”

“I’m going to do my job, you don’t have to worry about it, diva.”

“Diva! You little—“

“Okay, can we put aside the alpha posturing for five minutes?” Peter drawled, rolling his eyes. “Sit down. That’s your mark, Derek.”

“Fine,” Derek said, getting out his script and sitting down in an armchair. “This better not be a waste of my fucking time.”

Stiles wanted to punch him in the face. His gorgeous, tempting face.

“Stiles, this is Derek; Derek, this is Stiles.”

“Stiles?” He made a face and rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. What’s the first scene?”

Peter went to the camera stand, motioning for Stiles to his first mark, a piece of blue tape on the carpet. “I’m just going to keep the camera on; so work through the first scene, when Lars and Patrick meet for the first time, and I’ll give my feedback as you go along.”

This was Patrick’s introductory scene; and it was important to show that Patrick was young and exuberant, sexually confident and capable enough to draw out the broody Lars character. He was born and bred in Key West, the illegitimate grandson of Ernest Hemingway, living off his inheritance on the islands. Patrick was a hedonist, and at first glance, utterly lacking in any substance. Lars was attracted to him, but put off at the same time.

“Okay, cut,” Peter called, frowning slightly. “That didn’t work for me.”

Stiles smirked at Derek. “He’s coming off as a total douchebag. I don’t even know why Patrick would be interested in him at this point.”

“Because you’re coming off as a resort whore. Maybe if you could add a little more subtlety in your approach, Lars might be more open to your lewdness,” Derek said, smirking back at him.

His first reaction was to say something equally snarky, but Stiles just took a deep breath and fell into Patrick’s character. He said his lines in a simple way, keeping his voice low and teasing. Patrick _wanted_ Lars; but most of all, he wanted Lars to _like_ him.

Stiles wanted _Derek_ to like him.

And he could see it when Derek fell into character, could see the tension ease around his eyes. His smile was cautious, his words thoughtful with just a hint of regret at missed opportunities. Stiles got a little closer and gave Derek an easy smile, accepting the rejection with maturity and good humor. He let his hand slip across Derek’s arm, holding Derek’s gaze as he moved away.

“Cut,” Peter said, a small smile on his lips. “That was much better; I liked the way that scene flowed. I’d like you to keep working on the scene; change it up a little. Maybe Lars could be less guarded and flirt with Patrick, but the outcome is still the same. When you’re ready.”

He and Derek worked on the scene a few more times, listening to Peter’s adjustments and falling into an easy pattern between them, the give and take between two actors feeling more natural as they worked on the scene, taking cues and bouncing energy off each other.

They ran through two more scenes and Stiles was feeling loose and comfortable. By lunch time, he felt confident and had a better grasp of Patrick and how he related to the world and to Lars. Peter’s chef had made them a delicious roast with all the trimmings, the table set on the balcony, a carafe of wine on the table, and bottled water for Stiles.

“I’m really quite pleased with the two of you,” Peter said, cutting into his roast. “I told you that he was going to be a good match for you.”

During their scenes, Derek had lost some of his reserve and his open dislike for Stiles. They were able to talk and run ideas between each other. Stiles was hoping that Derek wouldn’t shut down on him, so when he looked over at Derek to gauge his reaction, he was pleased to see that Derek was relaxed. He turned and looked at Stiles, quirking a small grin.

“He’s not bad,” Derek murmured, sipping on his wine.

“You’ve worked with worse,” Peter said, chuckling.

Stiles made a petulant face at Peter’s words. “Thanks a lot, dude.”

Derek laughed and Stiles couldn’t help but stare at the way that it changed Derek’s face. He was fucking adorable – his eyes squished shut, his nose crinkled, his mouth opened and head tossed back – it was pretty great to see him laugh. Stiles didn’t think Derek ever laughed like that on camera.

“I’d like to run through all the early scenes today, hold the darker scenes for tomorrow,” Peter said, biting into his asparagus. “And after that, I want to block all the love scenes, going from light to dark. I’m going to invite Victor, the stunt coordinator, to work with the two of you on the choking scene and how to fight so that no one gets hurt on set.”

Stiles choked on his spit, looking up at Peter and at Derek. He’d totally forgotten about all the sexy scenes between Patrick and Lars. “Um…okay? Uh…you know I’ve never done, um, love scenes before.”

“Trust me, they’re not that exciting,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “Practice your moaning so you don’t sound like a donkey.”

Peter looked at Stiles and must’ve seen the sheer terror on his face. “Stiles, we’ll walk you through it. It’s nothing to be anxious over.”

“I have a strict nudity clause in my contract,” Stiles wheezed out, blushing furiously. He knew, going in, that there was going to be some explicit nudity, but his agent had hammered out a clause that Stiles had final control over the scene and that any unused film or digital expression was to be immediately destroyed or deleted.

Derek and Peter exchanged glances and Derek turned to look at Stiles. “I’m not going to do anything inappropriate. We’re going to choreograph it like a dance; where to touch, where not to touch, when to moan, when to breathe – it’s really more technical than anything else. This isn’t porn, Stiles, and no one expects you to do anything like that, okay?”

He gave them a shy smile. “Okay, I trust you guys.”

And it was that simple, he really did.

***

**Vulture.com**

_Actors Reveal the Awkward Truth of Shooting Sex Scenes_

_“_ _Not to mention any names, but one actor came on me during the take. I had to surreptitiously wipe myself off with the sheet. Fortunately, I liked the guy. I found it a little flattering and a little creepy. We never talked about it, so I can't tell you if it was Method acting on his part or if he just found me pretty, but I suspect I'm not the only actress who's had this experience. But I can tell you that, twenty years later, when I run into him, my first thought is,_ ‘ _There's the guy that had on-camera sex with my abdomen.’”_

 

Stiles admitted that he kind of ran and hid in his guest room after finishing that last scene with Derek. _With the belt._ He said that he was feeling a little tired and he was grateful that Peter and Derek didn’t comment on the fact that he had a raging boner during the entire time he and Derek were working out the first bed scene between Patrick and Lars. Despite his later embarrassment and subsequent hiding, Stiles thought that they did a good job.

“Stiles,” Peter said, calmly. “You do realize that Patrick is a free-spirit with immense sexual confidence. He’s all about pleasure and sex gives him joy. Being with Lars gives him joy. You come off as slightly terrified. And while you can use that same fear and uncertainly later, it’s not appropriate for this first scene between the two men.”

“Sorry, I’ll get it, I promise,” Stiles said, his face flushing hotly. “Just—maybe you should tell me what you want me to do.”

“This scene is about Patrick’s confidence. He’s a seductive young man and he knows what he wants. Lars is the one who’s supposed to be hesitant, a bit emotionally detached. And Patrick recognizes that he’s not fully there, so Patrick is going to ensure that Lars is present. You can be aggressive; Derek will tell you what he doesn’t want you to do if you’re uncertain about his boundaries.”

Stiles was sitting astride Derek because Patrick was setting the pace. He looked down at Derek and wanted to apologize, again, for molesting him but Derek had just said that it was fine. He wasn’t taking it personally. While that eased a part of Stiles’s mind, a very small secret part was kind of annoyed that Derek wasn’t feeling the “effects” of being in bed with him.

“You can touch my chest,” Derek said, patiently. “You can pinch my nipples. You can scratch down my abs. You can pretend to stroke my dick. I’ll make all the appropriate reactions.”

He stifled his giggle. “No donkey noises.”

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes. “Maybe Lars is a quiet fuck and Patrick makes all the weird noises.”

“Ha ha, you’re a laugh riot, Derek,” Stiles said, feeling more at ease. “All right, let’s just do this.”

“So romantic,” Derek murmured, snickering.

“Peter, he’s totally ruining the moment,” Stiles mock complained; turning to look at Peter.

Peter’s cell phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. “It’s Talia, take five.” He answered the call, stepping out into the hallway and down to the living room for privacy. “Hello, sister, to what do I owe the honor of your call?”

Stiles got off of Derek and sprawled out on the other side of the bed. They had agreed to use the empty guest room for the scene because it was neutral territory. Like the rest of Peter’s apartment, this room was decorated with neutral masculine colors. The walls and curtains were pale sand, the bedding a light blue, and the furniture was light colored wood buffed down so that the polish made it look like glass.

“So…three days after meeting and we get to fake sex in bed,” Stiles said, chuckling to himself. “This acting thing has got to be the greatest gig in the world.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. “Considering how nervous you are right now, how is it possibly the greatest gig?”

“Dude! I mean, you’re **Derek Hale**. How many people out there wouldn’t want a chance to do this scene with you in real life? Even if it’s all fake?”

Stiles imagined what it would be like to be Derek Hale for the day – everyone wanting to know him, wanting to meet him, telling him that he was loved – and he turned to look at Derek, who was lying next to him in eerie silence.

“Did I say something wrong? You look kind of pissed off at me again.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” he said, softly. “I’m just…people have this perception of me. They think because of the way that I look, I must be some kind of bad boy playboy. Or they know that I’m a Hale and only want to be connected to me because of the studio. Or I’m an asshole because I’m not always friendly or smiling for the cameras. Or that people who come up to me and ask for autographs or pictures sometimes get…inappropriate and expect me to, I don’t know, be whatever character they think I am in their minds.” He took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. Stiles stared at him in silence; completely awed by how open and trusting Derek was in that moment. It was like…pretending to have sex with him, having that trust between them…this was Derek letting Stiles know him. “Don’t get me wrong, Stiles, I love my job and I do love getting all the appreciation from the industry and people who go to watch my movies. I love all that; I’ll do everything that’s required of me to promote my work and my career. It comes with the job and I knew that going in. But…I’m just an actor, you know, like every other working actor in this city. I had a few advantages, but being known as ‘Derek Hale’ can be just as worse as being an unknown.”

Stiles tucked his elbow on his knee and turned to look at him, a little irked at Derek. “I know that you probably want me to say something like, ‘yeah it’s hard to be you,’ and I get it. But dude, I want what you have, and you don’t seem to appreciate it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your poor little me thing that you’ve going on right now,” he said, waving his hand at Derek. “Sorry, man, but for us working actors, many who will never get what you have, dream about this every fucking day. And we work hard for it, every fucking day, but only like less than one percent of us will ever make it in our lifetime.”

“You don’t think I work just as hard?” Derek said, quietly.

“No, I know you do, but…listen, Derek, it’s worse being an unknown actor struggling to try and make it, trust me. I’d rather be you any day of the week.”

Derek stared at him for a long moment and kicked off the sheets, getting to his feet. He left the spare room and Stiles listened to him stalk down the hallway to his own room, slamming the door. Stiles sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window to the city. Los Angeles was a hard town and only the strongest survived. He didn’t mean to insult Derek; he just didn’t understand Derek’s perspective. He had all the advantages and he still wasn’t happy with his life. Stiles couldn’t understand that.

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. _What was it that people said – the grass being greener on the other side? Fuck, he screwed up._

Peter walked into the room and stared at him. “Where’s Derek?”

“I think I made him mad,” he said, shrugging.

“About…”

“I might’ve said that he was kind of giving himself a pity party and that he didn’t appreciate all the things in his life.”

Peter sighed, his hands on his hips as he stared up at the ceiling. “And what on earth could have started such a conversation, Stiles?”

“I just said that I was sorry this was so awkward and that I was being stupid because there were a million people out there who’d kill to be where I am right now – in bed with _the_ Derek Hale.”

“You realize that Derek isn’t a piece of meat, right? That he’s right to be cautious because he’ll never really know people’s true intentions.”

“But that’s not what I meant—“

“Stiles, you don’t know Derek. You’ve only known him for three days,” Peter said, walking towards him, his eyes a little frosty. “You only know what Derek shows and tells the world, which isn’t very much I’m afraid, because he has reason to be protective of himself. The Derek Hale that you think you know, that’s a carefully crafted persona developed by Derek and his legion of PR people. You have to give up whatever preconceived notions you have of him and get to know him as he is.”

He was confused and he frowned, looking up at Peter. “You make him sound like he’s got post-traumatic stress disorder or something. There was nothing in the news about…”

Peter raised his eyebrow. “The Hale family name, money, and lawyers cast a very wide net.”

“Did—did something happen to Derek?”

“That’s for Derek to reveal to you,” he said, exhaling slowly. “My nephew is as human as any other person. You might want to cut him some slack.”

He felt ashamed and he nodded, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll apologize to him.”

“Give him a little bit of space for now. We can take a break and I can go over some things with you about the production once we get to Key West,” Peter said, giving him a small smile. “And Stiles, be careful of what you wish for. This movie could place you on the map, put you in the same spotlight as Derek, and you’ll get a front row seat for how harsh it can be to have the world’s eyes on you, judging you on every single thing, things out of your control.”

***

A couple of hours later, Derek came out of his room, quiet and a little bit wary. Stiles followed him into the kitchen and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, for what I said before,” he said, trying to meet Derek’s eyes. “That was really insensitive of me and I know I made asshole comments to you. It won’t happen again.”

Derek poured himself a glass of iced tea; he nodded, not meeting Stiles’s gaze. “It’s all right.”

“Really, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step and putting his hand on Derek’s arm. “I don’t know what it’s like to be where you are; and Peter said that I shouldn’t wish for what you have because of the kind of sacrifices you have to make in this business.”

He watched as Derek took a deep breath, a small smile on his lips. His hazel eyes flicked over to Stiles and he cocked his head a little. “We’re okay, Stiles.”

***

 **Author’s Note:** TRIGGER WARNINGS! Even though the abuse, violence, rape scene, and death scene are NOT actual abuse, violence, rape, or death scenes, it is part of the scene in the fictional movie between the two characters Lars and Patrick. I just wanted to warn that there was a violent rape/death scene within the context of this story.

 

There were four key intimate scenes between Patrick and Lars; the first one showed Patrick as the aggressor, Lars being passive and accepting. As their relationship progressed, Lars became the aggressor, but he took things a step beyond what either was comfortable with. The last scene involved a jealous and drunk Lars going after Patrick with a belt. It was a highly emotional scene for them, involving a lot of physical stunt work, culminating in the scene with Lars wrapping his leather belt around Patrick’s neck as he raped him to death.  

Victor and the special effects team had created a series of leather belts that Derek could use on Stiles without ever choking him. The rest would depend on Stiles’s acting to show the effects of the belt around his neck. They had carefully measured Stiles’s neck and created an emergency quick release that enabled the belt to come apart in two places. Stiles would never be in any real danger as Victor, the set medics, and the special effects crew would be on set to monitor and make sure that everything was safe.

The scene had Patrick on his back with Lars over him, his knee in Patrick’s groin to pin him down, the belt wrapped around the front of Patrick’s throat, Lars pulling the end as the buckle choked Patrick slowly to death.

“No matter how hard you tug on the end,” Victor said, showing Derek the belt, the special buckle, the two emergency release points. “It’s not going to tighten any tighter than this.” He slipped his finger between the belt and Stiles’s throat. “There’s pressure against his neck, but nothing that can tighten or give enough to choke him. Try to get a feel for it.”

Derek met Stiles’s eyes. “Okay?”

“I know the signal for help,” Stiles said, tapping Derek’s hip twice. “And I know how to get the release points.”

Derek looped the end of the belt in his hand and pulled slowly, tugging to test the give of the belt. Stiles looked up at him, feeling the leather around his neck, but nothing that tightened.

“Good?”

“Yep. It’s okay, Derek, I trust you.”

“Try it in the scene,” Peter suggested, as Victor moved away out of the frame of Peter’s camera.

Lars pushed Patrick to the carpet and wrapped the belt around his neck. Patrick fought back, reaching up to scratch or hit Lars’s face, but Lars delivered a hard backhanded slap across Patrick’s face, stunning him. He hissed his lines as he tightened his hand around the belt, Patrick gasped for breath as he writhed under Lars. He would struggle, fingers clawing at his throat as Lars’s hold on the belt gave a bit, just enough for Patrick to catch a breath, before Lars ripped his shorts off and raped him. Patrick gurgled, flailing in pain, as Lars took what he wanted, the belt tightened as Patrick came.

“Damn it,” Derek said, getting off of Stiles. He sat down in a nearby armchair, his hands rubbing over his head. “I need a minute.”

Stiles panted, breathless and a little turned on, looking over at Derek. He took the belt off and curled his legs up to hide his boner. He was pretty sure that Derek had felt it under him.

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Victor asked, taking the belt from him.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he said, giving Victor a small, embarrassed grin. “Just, kinda…”

“Intense? Yeah,” Victor said, patting his back and getting to his feet. “Good scene, man. I believed it.”

“Thanks, Vic.”

He looked over to see Derek breathing slowly, Peter leaning over him, saying something against his ear. Derek glanced at Stiles and Stiles gave a reassuring grin and waved stupidly at him. Derek nodded, wiping his face with his hands.

“That was…well…” Derek said, laughing at himself. “Not what I was expecting.”

Peter looked at his nephew for a long moment. “Do you think we should change the scene in the script?”

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “The whole movie would fall apart with any other possible ending.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Derek.”

Derek couldn’t look at Stiles, rubbing his face again.

Stiles tugged his shirt down as he got to his feet. “Listen, I think I’m going to, um, turn in, if you guys don’t mind. I’m really wiped out.”

Peter patted him on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, cheerily.

He was certain that Peter and Derek didn’t believe him, but he didn’t stick around to find out. He ran into his guest room and fell on top of the bed, burying his face in the cool covers. He knew that last scene wasn’t real, but the way that Derek was looking at him, wild eyed and a bit insane, the way that he touched Stiles…he shoved his hand under his hips, palming his hard cock under his shorts.

Derek had been _so hard_ against him; it was the first time he’d reacted to Stiles in any physical way.

***

**Darksideofhollywood.com**

_Blind Item: A young actor new to the scene traded sexual favors to get his new movie, which is the hottest Hollywood property in town. Apparently, it’s all in the family._

 

The two weeks shooting on location in Key West was starting to take its toll on everyone. Peter’s shooting schedule was grueling, long hours and distracting tourists ruining good takes, unpredictable summer storms that made the production team switch gears last minute and set up new scenes indoors. Stiles was really surprised that no one complained; and they all moved things to where they needed to go with military efficiency. He was learning that no matter how temperamental Peter was, he rarely took out his frustrations on the crew, which explained why they were so loyal to him. He was probably more adaptable than anyone, always checking his budget to make sure that they weren’t going to go over it. Peter wasn’t the kind of director who wanted to do multiple takes in a scene; and Stiles quickly learned that if he messed up his lines, to just take a breath, rewind, and say his lines correctly. This kept up the momentum and he knew Peter liked the process.

“Movies are made in editing, don’t worry too much about it, Stiles. You gave me a couple of good takes and you hit the emotion, that’s all I need. Don’t start shutting down on me.” Peter said, patting his back when Stiles flubbed his line five times in a row.

For Stiles, every day was an adventure. When he wasn’t scheduled to work, he hung out with the crew and learned about what the grips, best boys, best girls, the runners, special effects crew, stunt crew, and script supervisor all did on set. This was the best film school experience anyone could have; book learning was great, but there was nothing like working on an actual set to learn filmmaking.

It was kind of strange how such a disparate group of people could come together, work as a team, make something great in such a short amount of time, and then head off to new projects. But after working intensely together for two weeks, he was pleased that they had become a surrogate family for him. Being the youngest on set, being underage, and being really vulnerable on film, everyone looked out for Stiles. He missed his dad and Skyped with him whenever he could, he missed Scott and his friends back home, he missed just _being_ home. The crew helped Stiles keep up his spirits, sneaking him off to jet ski in the warm blue waters; riding around Key West on rented scooters; parasailing; rock climbing; bungey jumping – everything that the production insurance team didn’t allow Stiles to do. An injury could set back production and cost money, but Stiles needed the distraction whenever he had time off. Plus, he was with the stunt guys so he knew they would look out for him.

Peter knew exactly what Stiles was up to, actually he was kind of scarily omnipotent about what happened on his set; and if he turned a blind eye to Stiles’s antics, it was because Peter understood. A film set was a pressure cooker that was always about to explode and if letting Stiles off to have some fun helped prevent it for another day, then so be it.

Derek locked himself in his trailer or hotel room on his downtime; it was in his contract that when he wasn’t needed on set, he had a “two hour blackout” provision to allow him absolute quiet and privacy.

“Everyone needs to blow off some steam. Derek writes. At least you’re not off getting drunk or partying all hours of the morning. That’s something to be thankful for,” Peter said to him, raising his eyebrow.

“Dude, I’m not even legal and no one is going to serve me,” Stiles said, laughing. “And besides, Vic and the guys won’t let me drink, not when we’re doing, uh, sports.” He paused and stared at Peter. “Derek writes? What’s he writing?”

Peter grinned his Cheshire Cat grin. “You should ask him, maybe he’ll tell you.”

All of his scenes were with Derek. The few days he stayed at Peter’s place to rehearse with Derek had really helped build a friendship. He’d gotten to know Derek – he was a big history buff and he spent hours watching _The History Channel_ ; he loved being with his family and was a bit of a homebody; he had a small group of friends (he called them his “pack”) that he grew up with his whole life; he was just as star struck on the red carpet as anyone else, that whenever he saw actors he admired, he turned into a total dork; and he worked out constantly with two personal trainers, to the point that Stiles was no longer jealous of Derek’s finely honed physique. He didn’t have that kind of discipline or even the compunction to follow Derek’s brutal exercise regimen.

He had traveled with Derek and watched first hand just how rabid paparazzi and overly enthusiastic (ie, inappropriate and obnoxious) some “fans” were to Derek; it had brought out strong protective instincts in Stiles and he rather enjoyed playing the “bad cop” by saying and doing the things that Derek couldn’t publicly say or do.

“That’s going to be you in a few months,” Derek said, sinking into the plush hotel couch, closing his eyes, his head back. “People find out your travel itinerary and track you down in airports in the hopes of riling you up. Most fans are great, most people are really generous and awesome, they just want a friendly hello and a picture. I think that’s cool. But then there are the ones who follow you into the restroom to try and take a picture of your dick.”

Stiles laughed. “Hey, I’m pretty sure everyone is going to see my dick in this movie so at least I don’t have to worry about that.” He inhaled through his mouth, his eyes wide. “Derek, everyone is going to see my dick in this movie!”

“Uh, yeah,” Derek said, making a face. “Are you just figuring that out now?”

“Ohmygod! People are going to see my dick! My dick, Derek!”

“You don’t have anything to be ashamed about.”

Stiles was not reassured. “My dick…all those people that know me, the people I had a crush on…they’re going to see my penis.”

Derek laughed so hard, he fell off the couch.

Peter had a weird process because he liked filming chronologically, which wasn’t the most efficient way to make a movie. All the scenes between Derek and Stiles in Key West would be shot first, in order, and they’d all return to LA to film Derek’s scenes. This meant that they’d work through their on-screen relationship from light to dark. For an actor, that was kind of great because it gave Stiles continuity in his emotional arc. He and Derek could progress through the story as their characters to the end.

But as the movie got darker, Stiles noticed that Derek started to withdraw from him. He was moody off camera; he was short-tempered with the crew; he and Peter fought a lot on the set, arguing over the scene, nitpicking Peter’s decisions, Derek getting defensive about the script. The atmosphere was tense and everyone started walking around on eggshells around Derek, which seemed to piss him off even more.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Stiles asked Peter.

Peter sighed and then gave a tired grin. “Derek is experiencing character bleed.”

Stiles frowned. “What’s that?”

“He’s usually very good at keeping his character on set and not taking it with him when he’s done; but every once in a while, he has difficulty shaking off the character and it takes him a couple of weeks to return to his normal self.”

“So, what, we all have to put up with his bullshit until the movie wraps?”

“Whereby Derek will apologize profusely to the cast and crew for getting so wrapped up in his character and _being_ a jackass instead of just _acting_ like one, yes. He’s loved by the crew; they understand that some actors have a bit of madness in their method.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Come on, how can people get away with that crap?”

“He’s Derek Hale and he delivers.”

“That’s just serious diva bullshit right there,” he complained, shaking his head. “If I did something like that, I’d be fired off the job, dude.”

Peter smiled. “Because you’re not Derek Hale.”

Stiles stewed; because Peter was right.

“You and Derek are doing wonderful work, Stiles. I’m really enjoying your performances; the dailies are great and I’ve been sending them to my editor to start putting the first editing pass together. Laura’s happy with how things are going, the studio is happy and off my back – it’s going to be fine. You have another week or so on set and you’re done. I’ll only need you back if I need to shoot any pick-ups or ADR; and then we start doing promo for the film. You can move out of that rat hole house, buy a bachelor pad in LA, and start looking for your next project at your leisure because a lot of doors will open for you now.”

He chewed on his lip and looked at Peter. “So it’s just business as usual.”

“Yes, Stiles, business as usual.”

***

**People Magazine**

_“My mom instilled in me a great sense of normalcy from a young age. I practically grew up on movie sets and my mom was always with me. She’d always make me hang up my clothes at the end of the day on set, not just toss it on the floor of the costume trailer. When I was a kid, they would try to move me through the line at catering to get ahead, but my mom would be like, ‘no, you stay here and wait with everyone else’ and I still do that, I won’t cut ahead in line,” says Elijah Wood, laughing. “Because what am I? I’m an actor. Why should I get to the front of the line? Everyone is hungry; everyone is tired. Because I’m the star? That’s all entitlement bullshit.”_

 

Stiles was okay knowing that he was the least experienced person on set; but he asked questions and he learned from everyone. He didn’t just stay in his trailer until he was called; though the production assistants cheerfully complained that he needed to be tagged so they could hunt him down. Stiles made sure to always be nearby when it was getting closer to his call time so that he wouldn’t inconvenience anyone into trying to find him.

Every day, he was getting the best on-the-job training; learning his craft and seeing how everyone pulled together. When it was time to do his nude scenes, the crew was surprisingly protective of him and Peter made sure to close the set, keeping out any visiting studio people and unnecessary crew from being on set. Stiles actually didn’t mind being naked; he was comfortable with the crew now. He had already gotten his blushing out of the way when he went in for make-up and the make-up team shaved him, airbrushed certain parts of his body to even out the tan lines, and made sure that he looked presentable on camera.

“Ohmygod, I’m a total twink, aren’t I?”

Rafael, the one who had airbrushed him, laughed. “Are you just figuring that out?”

“Really, does my butt look okay?” Stiles said, standing with his back to the mirror and looking over his shoulder to see how his ass looked. He bent over slightly. “Like, you can’t see any weird hair or anything?”

“Your butt looks fine,” Sara reassured him, patting his head.

“That’s right it does!” Stiles said, laughing. “All right, woman, where’s my robe? It’s one thing to get naked on set, I don’t need to tempt everyone with my fine self on the way there.”

Sara rolled her eyes and helped him into the robe. “Here you are, Little Emperor.”

They had already filmed the scene with Lars inviting Patrick back to his bungalow. Patrick excused himself to use the bathroom while Lars got them drinks and Patrick walked out as naked as he was born, all confident sexual swagger, pushing Lars on the couch and straddling his lap.

When he reached the set, everyone was there. Peter was talking to his camera operator while Derek was hanging out, talking with the grips. The bungalow set was lit up and there were only six people in the room.

“I’m ready for my close up now, Mr Hale,” he called out, striking a pose.

“Oh, good, Stiles, you’re here,” Peter said, nodding to him. “Your mark is in the bathroom.”

“So do you want me to walk out with a boner or something?”

Peter blinked. “Pardon?”

“I mean, Patrick strips down and he walks out of the bathroom intending to get Lars in bed. Isn’t it kind of weird that he’d walk out…flaccid? Shouldn’t he be turned on?”

Derek covered his face with his hands, chuckling to himself.

Peter took a deep breath, biting back his grin. “While I applaud your…need for authenticity in the scene, I don’t think we actually need to capture Patrick…erect…on camera. Might I remind you that I am not making a gay porn film?”

The crew snickered as Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

“So what’s my motivation in this scene?” Stiles said, teasing Peter. He knew that the director sometimes took his “art” too seriously and Stiles enjoyed teasing Peter about it.

“Maybe he’s just nervous enough that he’s not quite there yet and Lars can be the one who fully turns him on,” Peter growled at him through clenched teeth.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It was just a suggestion, shesh, Peter, don’t get your panties into a knot.” He laughed, clapping his hands, and walking onto the set. He opened his robe and flashed the crew. They laughed, a few of them covered their eyes in mock shock. “Hah, get a good look, boys! So you don’t pass out from shock at my beautiful bod.” He shook his hips, letting his junk glop about.

“Stiles! For God’s sake!” Derek shouted, laughing. “Get to your mark!”

He laughed, waggling his eyebrows and giving Derek a front row view as he shimmied his hips just for him.

“That’s appropriate,” Derek drawled, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for sharing.”

Stiles got to his mark and took off the robe, getting the nerves out of his system. He was going to do this. They were paying him a lot of money for this. _His money shot._ Hah! Stiles worked through the scene in his head, he obviously didn’t have a lot of lines since Patrick was a man of action. They had already done the blocking and movements during rehearsal earlier, so it was all muscle memory now.

He checked his breath and frowned. It wasn’t horrible but – there was a thing of mints in the pocket of his robe, God bless the make-up team. He got out two and chewed them quickly, the cinnamon burning his tongue and mouth. Bleh. Derek was going to have to taste that, too. Hah!

“Stiles, ready?”

“Ready,” he called back, popping his head into the doorway.

“Scene 27, Take 1.”

“Action.”

***  

 **Author’s Note:** TRIGGER WARNING! I want to warn for dub-con in this chapter. Stiles may want to be with Derek, there’s an element of coercion/power dynamic here that may be triggery. I do believe that if Stiles did not want to do this and said no that Derek would have let Stiles go. However, because of the intense emotion of the scene between them and their very ugly fight leading to predatory behavior by Derek, while Stiles did want to do it, I don’t believe that he was in the right mindset to truly consent.

**Vanity Fair Magazine**

_“I don’t have on-set romances so whatever has been written about me about dating a co-star, it’s completely false or used for publicity for the film, or worse, publicity for the other party involved in the so-called relationship. It rarely has anything to do with me,” Derek Hale admits with a wide, sly grin. “My publicist is going to kill me for saying that.”_

 

Three weeks in and _everyone_ was still walking on eggshells thanks to Derek Hale. Stiles had been on the end of one of Derek’s tirades, and taking Peter’s advice, he’d let it go, _business as usual_.

Stiles was the kind of person who could shake off a lot and get past things. He was hardest on himself, still a little insecure about his acting. Early in filming, Stiles had Googled himself and found some unflattering things written about him online; some really brutal criticisms of his work prior to getting this movie; not to mention a few innuendos on _how_ he got this movie. It made him paranoid, wondering if people on set knew about the things being posted about him. He could still hear Derek’s voice calling him a _casting couch whore_. Some days, when Stiles was left alone for too long and he started thinking about what he was doing, how he was helping to carry his share of the movie’s success or failure, and what that meant to everyone working on production,  it really started to feel heavy to him.

And when Stiles’s insecurity and Derek’s moodiness collided on set, during a particularly important scene, it didn’t surprise anyone when they both imploded.

“I’m just having a hard time with the words, okay? Just give me a sec,” Stiles grated out, glaring at Derek.

“You have two lines, Stiles,” Derek said, impatiently. “And you had six chances at it. What the Hell is so hard about two fucking lines? Do you want someone to write them on cue cards for you and hold them up so you can read them? Because your delivery is pretty much just reading from the page at this point. I don’t even know what emotion you’re trying to show, unless it’s one of stupidity, because you’re not giving me anything to work with here!”

“Right, like that’s really helpful criticism, asshole.”

Derek laughed, pushing Stiles off of his lap and getting to his feet. “I’m the asshole? At least I’m not having problems with my lines, amateur!”

“Gentlemen, now is not the time to—“

“Shut up, Peter,” Derek growled, shaking his head. “I’m so sick of working with that—that little punk. He’s not prepared, he’s fucking up the lines, and this is turning out to be the longest fucking day of our lives. So thank you, Stiles, for making production work over time for this two line scene. Good work.”

Stiles swallowed and stood up, staring right at Derek. “What the Hell is your problem, Derek?”

Peter exhaled slowly and stood up. “Perhaps the two of you would like to discuss this in your trailers? Take a thirty minute break, this is not a suggestion.” He pointed his finger at Derek. “The budget is **my** business alone, you do not have any right to put that on Stiles or anyone else on this project, do you understand, Derek?”

“Fine.”

Stiles watched as Derek pretty much ran off the set, heading for his trailer across the street. He rubbed his hands over his head, trying to just shake it off. But he was so pissed; he wasn’t going to just take Derek’s bullshit just because he was “Derek Hale” and everyone was afraid to make the little diva mad.

_Well, boo fucking hoo._

He marched up to Derek’s trailer and didn’t even bother to knock. He opened the door and stalked inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.

“People usually knock before entering a room that doesn’t belong to them,” Derek growled, glaring at him.

“I’m tired of your shit, Derek,” Stiles said, getting right into his face. “In fact, everyone is tired of it, so grow the fuck up. I’ll take constructive criticism from a peer, but don’t expect me to just lie down and take it when you insult me while we’re on set!”

Derek sneered, raising his eyebrow. “You’re not my _peer_ , Stiles. This is your first major project. We can talk after you’ve gotten 15 movies under your belt.” He laughed, meanly. “But I’m sure it won’t take you long since we know how you got this one, don’t we.”

“Yeah, I auditioned for it, moron.”

“You did a lot more than audition for it, Stiles,” he said, smirking at him. “Come on, I saw you, you’re Peter’s boy.”

“I’m not his _boy_ and I never did anything—“

“So you weren’t on your knees for Peter?”

Stiles flushed, looking away. “That’s not what it looked like!”

“Really?” Derek drawled, moving closer to him. He caught Stiles’s face with his hand, thumb pressing into his chin. Stiles inhaled sharply and grabbed onto Derek’s arms. “I find it really strange that someone who was there, working as catering staff, would somehow wind up in Peter’s private office, shirtless and on his knees. He didn’t force you, did he?”

“No, no of course not—“

“You were there by invitation? I can understand that you might be intimidated by Peter; maybe you felt that you had to do what he said. Did he threaten to have you fired?”

“Not…not quite?”

Derek gave a wolfish grin. “So you followed my uncle to his office and offered yourself to him for a chance to audition for a role in his movie. Pretty bold move, but I can see how doing something like that can work to your advantage. I know this is what you’ve always wanted and you’re the kind of guy who goes after what he wants, right? What’s a blowjob or two for a chance of a lifetime?”  

He shook his head; he knew that would come back to haunt him one day, but he never imagined that Derek would bring it up like this, not after all the hard work that Stiles put into the movie.

“It’s not like that between us. Peter has been nothing but a mentor—“

Derek laughed and Stiles frowned at how ugly it sounded. “Peter rarely does anything so selfless. Come on, Stiles, you were living with him during rehearsals.”

“Just for a few days and you were there, too.”

“Did I get in your way?”

“Derek, it’s not what you think. Yes, I was shirtless and on my knees, but I was just proving a point to Peter that I wasn’t going to do that for him, that I wanted to audition.” He stared at Derek, hoping that he would believe Stiles. “I don’t—I don’t want Peter, not like that. He’s a friend, just a friend, and you…”

“Me?” Derek said, his smile widening. “Oh, I see.”

Stiles frowned. “What?”

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’s back, holding him close. He pressed his face against Stiles’s neck and kissed him, licking up his neck to suck on his earlobe, nipping it gently between his teeth. Stiles blinked up at the ceiling of the trailer and then moaned at the feel of Derek’s teeth and warm lips, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, giving Derek more room to kiss and nibble up and down his neck. Warm hands stroked his back and Stiles sighed against Derek’s lips, his beard tickling his skin all over.

He backed Stiles up against the wall of the trailer, hand slipping between them to push down Stiles’s track pants, his strong hand curling around Stiles’s hardening cock.

“Derek—“

“You don’t want to be Peter’s boy,” Derek murmured, licking across his mouth. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Stiles knew he should probably stop Derek, push him away, tell him that he was acting like a first class asshole but…but his hand felt _so good_ , it was stroking him in the best way, getting him close. He tried to say something, but Derek’s mouth was on his, his tongue filling Stiles’s mouth, tangling with his tongue in a playful fight for dominance.

“Not like…not like this… _hmmmm_ ohmygod, Derek, please, yes, please, faster!”

“Faster,” Derek said, his other hand gripping Stiles’s waist as he tightened his grip on Stiles’s cock, thumb smoothing across the wet head, making Stiles shiver against Derek’s body. “Come on, Stiles, come on.”

Stiles groaned, arching into Derek’s fast strokes, his hands gripping Derek’s shoulders, panting through his mouth and trying to kiss whatever part of Derek’s face he could reach. “Yes, yes, please.”

Derek laughed against his ear, letting him go. He took a step back and pressed his hands against the trailer wall by Stiles’s head. “Get on your knees and suck me off.”

He caught his breath, blinking his eyes at Derek. “Wha—what?”

“Come on, baby, suck me off,” he said, wrapping his hand behind Stiles’s head and nudging him gently downwards. “I think about how your mouth would feel around my cock all the time.”

It probably wasn’t the right time for him to reveal that he’d never done anything like this before – not that Derek would believe him anyway. He didn’t care; he wanted Derek. He wanted to put his mouth on Derek and make him feel _something_ for him. Stiles slid to his knees, pulling down Derek’s pajama pants. He ran his hands up Derek’s thick thighs, licking his lips as he pressed his mouth against the hard shaft of Derek’s cock, moving up to wrap his lips around the head.

“Just like that,” he said, holding Stiles steady. “Just suck on the head.”

He sucked hard, tasting the bitter pre-come on his tongue as he flicked it over and over and around the thick head in his mouth. He moaned and closed his eyes, breathing in Derek’s musky and sweaty scent, filling his senses as Derek moved his hips in shallow, short thrusts.

“Good boy,” Derek said, groaning throatily. He flung his head back and braced his legs, wrapping his other hand around the base of his cock, stroking firmly, fingers bumping against Stiles’s stretched lips.

Stiles curled his fingers around Derek’s tightening balls, his other hand moving to his neglected cock, drooling with pre-come as he stroked himself, looking up to see Derek with his eyes closed and teeth clenched, the tendons in his neck stark against his skin.

“Yes, fuck!” Derek said, huskily, looking down as come pulsed inside Stiles’s mouth.

He let out a muffled sound, trying not to bite down as he came in his hand, dribbling on the carpeted floor of the trailer. Derek’s hand clenched the back of his hair as he leaned forward, thrusting carefully into Stiles’s mouth.

“How long have you wanted to do that, baby?” Derek purred, stroking Stiles’s head and taking a step away, pulling up his pants with a smug look on his face.

Stiles swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He breathed quickly, pulling on his pants and not looking at the dark wet spots on the trailer carpet. He met Derek’s eyes…and something was off. “Hey, is this…”

Derek raised his eyebrow and huffed out an annoyed sound. “You can go back on set, Stiles. Tell them that I’ll be there in five minutes.” Stiles watched as Derek walked into the small bathroom at the end of the trailer.

_What the Hell just happened?_

“You should be able to get that scene now, right Stiles?” Derek said, giving him a coy look from inside the bathroom.

Stiles frowned, scratching the back of his neck. “Derek, what…”

Derek gave him a polite smile, the kind that he reserved for paparazzi and annoying fans. “Thanks, Stiles, I really needed that. I knew your mouth would be perfect.”

He closed the door. Stiles was dismissed.

“Fuck you, Derek!” He shouted, walking to the bathroom and kicking the door. “Fuck you.”

***

Stiles hit all his marks and his lines, wrapping up the scene for the day in one take. Derek gave him a languid, knowing smile as he lounged back on the set couch, chuckling at the look on Stiles’s face. He wanted to punch Derek in the mouth, but instead, he just sneered at Derek and walked off set with as much dignity as he could muster.

Peter grabbed his arm. “Are you all right, Stiles?”

Stiles jerked his arm from Peter’s hold. “I’m fine. Just give me the call sheet for tomorrow.”

“Derek, what the fuck did you do?” Peter hissed as Stiles practically ran away.

He heard the echo of Derek’s mocking laughter following him off the set.

***

The last week that Stiles was on location was coming to an end. Things were still tense between him and Derek, but Stiles was resigned to the fact that Derek would never see him as anything but a guy who’d trade sex for work. It wasn’t exactly the reputation Stiles wanted coming out of the gate, but he also knew that Derek wouldn’t spread any gossip.

After that time in Derek’s trailer, they only spoke to each other during their scenes. But as it got closer to shooting Patrick’s death scene, Stiles was nervous because he wasn’t sure if Derek would take out his personal feelings on Stiles. He had a panic attack on set and Peter was the only one he’d allow to get close enough to help him breathe through it.

“You’re going to be fine, Stiles,” Peter murmured against his ear, his hand warm on Stiles’s back. “Just breathe. If we need to postpone the scene, we can.”

Stiles gasped, panting through his mouth. “But—but—set back production.”

“Shhh, that’s nonsense,” Peter said, kindly. “Your health is a far greater priority than a lost production day, don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

He nodded and caught his breath. “Thanks, Peter. I’m okay now.”

“I don’t know what happened between you and Derek – and I don’t need to know – but whatever it was, you can trust Derek in this scene. He may be a grumpy cat, a sour little wolf at times, but he’s a professional. He holds his reputation as a professional on a pedestal and he’d be quite devastated if anything tarnished his reputation in front of the crew. Victor and the medics are on set,” Peter motioned with his head to just off the set and Stiles breathed easier, seeing them there. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

Derek watched them in silence as Peter walked Stiles off the set. Stiles wondered, bitterly, if Derek thought that he and Peter were going to do something.

_You’re not Peter’s boy…but you want to be mine._

Despite all of Peter’s reassurances that they could shoot the scene the next day, Stiles didn’t want to make everyone wait for him. Peter took him aside and sat with Stiles in Peter’s trailer for two hours, walking him through the scene. He pulled Victor into the trailer and Stiles practiced with the belt a couple of times, letting Victor play the role of Lars.

“Okay, I can do this,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“You sure, kiddo?” Victor said, looking at Peter.

Peter nodded, his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “We can wait until tomorrow. Everyone on set knows that this is going to be intense; no one would fault you if you needed to take a day.”

“I’m okay,” he said, meaning it. “I can do it.”

“Nothing will go wrong. I promise, Stiles.”

And nothing did go wrong. He and Derek hit every mark, every line, and every intense emotion. They did three takes, three different camera set ups, one minor adjustment from Peter, and then wrapped the scene for the day.

“Good death scene, kid,” Victor said, patting Stiles on the back as the set medics checked over his neck and gave him a clean bill of health.

Peter wrapped his arm around Stiles’s shoulder and waved for the cast and crew to come closer. “Ladies and gentlemen, this was Stiles’s last scene!”

Stiles was shocked by the cheers and applause; he knew it was set etiquette that when an actor finished their last scene of the film, the cast and crew acknowledged it. Everyone came up to him to give him a hug and by the end of the production day, Stiles was physically and emotionally wiped out. Peter asked Vic to take Stiles back to his hotel and keep him company if Stiles needed it. It was emotional for Stiles, the heaviness of filming finally off his shoulders, and he felt like laughing and screaming and crying all at once. He was giddy one minute and completely depressed the next.

“It’s like that,” Vic said, walking Stiles to his hotel room. “I can hang out with you for a couple of hours while you wind down.”

Stiles considered it, but what he really wanted was to crash and Skype with his dad. “Thanks, man, really, but I think I’m going to pass out as soon as I take a shower.”

“You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone if you need company, even if it’s me,” Vic said, chuckling.

“You’re awesome, what’re you talking about? But yeah, thanks Vic, I’m all right,” he said, taking a deep breath and opening the door to his hotel. Vic followed him inside and Stiles knew that he was checking out his room to make sure everything was clear.

“Okay, kid, call me or Pete if you need anything,” Vic said, giving him another back thumping hug and Stiles walked him out.

The silence of the hotel room was a little unnerving so Stiles turned on the TV and changed the channels to the music station. He put it on club music but kept the volume down so he wouldn’t disturb his neighbors. He’d be heading back to LA the next day and Stiles was seriously looking forward to being home. He would check in with his agent, with Scott, and drive home to Beacon Hills to hang out with his dad for a few days.

He ran his hand over his hair and decided that a long, hot shower was just what he needed. He was towel drying his hair when he heard the soft ring of his hotel doorbell. It was probably Peter coming to check on him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the door, opening it.

“Derek?”

Derek looked at him, his eyes trailing down Stiles’s chest to the towel. Stiles would’ve normally blushed, but there wasn’t much that Derek hadn’t already seen during filming.

“Hey, is—is anything wrong?”

He was surprised when Derek stepped into the room, his hands curling around Stiles’s face, mouth slipping over Stiles’s lips, perfect and familiar. He felt Derek close the door behind them, walking Stiles further into the hotel room until they both fell on the bed.

“Derek—what—god…”

“Wanted you so much, Stiles,” Derek murmured, kissing his ear and making Stiles shiver. “Since I saw you, that night…cute fucking waiter in my mom’s house…staring at me all night…I was going to ask you out before you left and…saw you with Peter, fucking drove me crazy.”

Stiles whimpered as Derek jerked off Stiles's towel, scrambling up to his knees to pull off his shirt and undo his jeans, pushing them and his shorts down quickly. He pressed against Stiles and Stiles closed his eyes, moaning, as he curled his arms and legs around Derek, holding him close.

“You’re such an asshole,” he said, in between Derek’s kisses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be,” Derek said, licking and sucking on his nipples. “I’ll make it up to you.”

It was like Derek had gone feral with lust and need, kissing and touching Stiles everywhere, gentle and sweet and pushing every single button Stiles didn’t even know he had. He kissed and touched Derek, not like when they were on set, pressed together in the skin of their characters. It had been good, it had been _a dark fantasy_ , but this was so much better because it was real. He was with Derek, not Lars; and Derek wanted him, not Patrick.

“Derek…oh _ohhh_ yes…”

Stiles grabbed unto Derek’s thick black hair as Derek kissed down his stomach, still sensitive from the make-up team shaving him down. The first touch of Derek’s hot, wet mouth on his cock made him groan, hips arching under Derek’s hands, keeping him still against the bed. It felt amazing, so much better than his hand or a sex toy. His fingers tugged hard when Derek started sucking on his cock mixed with long, slow pulls up the length of his cock, lips caressing and giving perfect suction on the head until Stiles felt his thighs shake.

“Not gonna last,” Stiles panted out, looking down to see Derek staring up at him, eyes nearly black – or were they red in the reflection of the bedside lamp. “Derek—“

He sank back on the bed, shuddering through the best come of his life, feeling Derek sucking and licking and swallowing him down. He let go of Derek’s hair and grabbed at the bedding, biting his bottom lip as he arched his back and neck in pleasure.

Derek pulled off of him and Stiles moaned at how fast it was over; but loved the feel of Derek’s weight holding him down as he kissed Stiles, tongue flicking into his mouth and Stiles murmured at the taste of his come, breath pungent with musky need.

“Jesus,” Stiles said, breathlessly, blinking up at Derek. “What the fuck, Derek?”

“What?” Derek said, looking at him, puzzled.

Stiles got off the bed and picked up his towel, wrapping it around his waist. He turned and glared at Derek, shaking his head. “What the fuck was that? You—you don’t talk to me for a whole week and treat me like shit and—and you think you can just barge into my room and—and blow me and think everything’s going to be okay? What the fuck, Derek!”

“Stiles—“

“No!” He said, forcefully, one hand holding his towel. He was feeling a little hysterical and he needed to calm down before he went into another panic attack. “I think you should go.”

Derek took a deep breath and slid off the bed until he was standing in front of Stiles. He pulled on his clothes and ran a hand through his black hair. “I am sorry for…for everything.”

“Great, yeah, you’re sorry,” he said, making a face. “Real nice, Derek.”

“I’m not—the sex was—“Derek broke off, lips frowning as he huffed out his nose. “Stiles, it’s the job; it’s Method. I thought you understood.”

Stiles really wanted to kick Derek in the guts. “Right, it was Method when you accused me of being Peter’s whore right before you stuck your hand in my pants and jerked me off. It was Method when you turned into a nightmare asshole.”

Derek stared at him and Stiles really wondered if Derek was that socially inept that he couldn’t see it from Stiles’s point of view; that he’d become so jaded being in Hollywood and being catered to all his life that he somehow forgot what it was like to be a normal person.

“Just go, Derek, you know, just – whatever, man. Nice working with you,” Stiles said, letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head.

He watched as Derek gave him a nod and turned, heading for the door. He left quietly, closing the door behind him. Stiles pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes and pressed hard until he could see white sparks behind his eyelids.

_What the fuck? What the ever loving fuck was that?_

He was so ready to go home. He knew that he’d have to see Derek again; that they would have to smile and be friendly on red carpets and for interviews. He would have to pretend that everything was perfectly fine, that he was excited about everything, that he was so pleased to have worked with Derek.

Ironically, it was probably going to be his best performance ever.


End file.
